The Art of Winning
by TheEvilPeaches
Summary: She tells herself that it really isn't so bad, existing with him. Oneshot.


AN: First off…no this is not related to Life After Peeta Mellark or The Downward Spiral. Sorry! This is just something that randomly popped into my head. Short, but not entirely sweet. Set in the years after the games.

Oh…and if you think this is too explicit for T…let me know I will move it up. I didn't want to make it M in case someone complains that it isn't janky enough!

Disclaimer: No, I do not own the Hunger Games or the characters, those belong to Suzanne Collins.

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_"This love is silent" - _TS Eliot

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_"Although we've come to the end of the road, still I can't let you go, it's unnatural, you belong to me, I belong to you" - _Woody Allen

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Her world is empty of life and everything else in between. There is nothing and no one left, there is only _him. _She curses the day that Peeta died and she curses her weakness for not dying along with him. She was too afraid, too cowardly. She fought too hard and Snow allowed her to live so that her family would not starve.

It's not so bad, she tells herself. Or at least she tries to, anyway. _He's _not so bad. At least not most of the time. They live together now; it only makes sense after all. Two lone victors from two different districts. It simply became too _annoying _for reporters to hunt them down in their respective homes, such an _inconvenience_ for them to bring the two victors to the Capitol all the time for events. So Snow gave them an apartment in the Capitol for his people's viewing pleasure.

It makes her feel like an animal, a well kept pet. At least she isn't suffering alone, because she knows that _he_ feels just a furious at life as she does.

"So. Is it everything you hoped it would be?" She had asked him scathingly one day.

His light eyes had regarded her coldly; making her feel as small as only he could make her feel. Cato had then looked away and she knew that he was displeased with his new life as well.

Her mother calls sometimes and the conversations are never very long. Her mother is displeased and ashamed of the situation and it always creeps into every call. Once the words 'are you being safe' reach her ears she hangs up because it isn't something she wants to talk about. It isn't something she wants to talk about with anyone.

They share a bed, they have slept together. It isn't a secret; at least it isn't a very good one if it is. It happened out of boredom originally, because what else is there to do when forever includes only the two of them? It was good enough to want to try again…and again…and again. He wasn't overly vindictive to her and he wasn't exactly hard on the eyes. In fact he was quite the opposite.

She knows that he hasn't been with anyone else before her and she also knows that there won't ever be anyone after her. It is one of those things, she just _knows_. It is an unspoken agreement between the two of them. She knows she doesn't appreciate it as much as she should. She made the mistake of bringing a young man back once, she had kissed him dispassionately on the couch and she doesn't even remember his name. Cato had walked in and calmly said in his dangerously sharp voice, "Get out of my house before I remove you myself, you _stupid_ fuck."

The nameless young man had scrambled out so fast that she hadn't had enough time to fix her unbuttoned blouse. After all, who would want to face one of the cruelest victors to come out of the Hunger Games? Cato had stared at her with his emotionless mask before he said, "Did he make you happy?"

She had shaken her head, feeling the dread fill her up. Cato had simply glared and stormed into their bedroom where he remained, ignoring her for the better part of the week. She never brought another man into their home again. She knows how spiteful and jealous Cato can be and he can make her life a nightmare if he puts his mind to it. It simply isn't worth it anymore.

They go to events together, take pictures together. They do everything together because that is how Snow wants it. Cato mentors tributes every year and she only watches him, refusing to be part of the Hunger Games any longer. This isn't to say that she doesn't watch him train with the tributes, that she doesn't admire his fighting finesse. She admires him ardently and knows that Cato should be the only victor and she should be dead.

She has gotten past her former nights of crying herself to sleep. She's done wallowing in her own sorrow eternally. Cato used to make her cry; he used to use her as a method of relieving his own stress and pain. Now he's found a better way of using her, yet it doesn't feel like being used at all, at least not anymore. She thinks that she used to hate him, but time has healed so many wounds. Now they are one and the same, Cato and Katniss, and any offense to one is an offense to the other.

Every day becomes the same once they get past the events and publicity for awhile. She goes to the city and walks and walks, looking for something worthwhile. Her other half is off working because he can't bear to be cooped up in an apartment with her all day. She doesn't blame him; they are both wild animals and tolerance is not their strong point. She can only handle so much of his bitching and he can only handle so much of her moping. Time apart during the day is crucial to their continued cohabitation.

By the time it is dusk, they both are sitting in their apartment, Katniss grilling some sort of steak, garnished with vegetables. She refuses to have a servant in their home, refuses to allow someone to cook for her and Cato. Cooking a meal reminds her of home and what she used to do for her family. Cato sits and stares out the window, waiting for her to call him to the dinner table. She gives him a small glance and decides that he is her family now.

As is their routine, they sit and eat silently. Then they clear the table and she washes the dishes while Cato dries them. Afterwards, they retire to their bedroom where she changes into her nightgown and Cato into nothing but his shorts. It is hot in the Capitol this summer, so they leave their window open and let the night air brush across their skin. She watches the fan above them rotate slowly and wonders when he is going to make his move. She feels tense, waiting for what she wants, but too afraid to go for it herself.

Then, just like every night, his large hand makes its journey to her thigh, then her hip, then over to the spot that aches the most. She sighs and tries to pretend that she isn't melting into him instantly. She rolls onto her back to accommodate his form and she admires how the moonlight bounces off his light hair.

He presses her into the bed, holding her arms above her head. His lips are hot and passionate and they make her feel alive as nothing else does anymore. His large hands are everywhere, caressing her breasts and the spot between her thighs, causing her to gasp and moan. He gently pushes up her nightgown, knowing that she isn't wearing anything underneath. He knows that she wears nothing because she expects this from him and he isn't about to smirk about it because he knows how moody she gets when he's smug. His fingers stroke her folds carefully, the way he knows she likes it. She's wet for him, as always and he uses his fingers to prepare her for his intrusion. She arches against him, moaning, and he tries to catch her ever elusive gaze because he loves the fire he sees there. When he's inside her she doesn't even know how to speak because there is only him and that is all that matters.

Her hips move against his slowly at first and then faster as the heat builds between them. He holds her to him tightly as he thrusts, enjoying the feeling of her body pressed against his. He is gentle as no one would ever expect him to be, and she knows that she is the only one to see this side of him, the side that only appears in bed with her. She used to hate him, but she doesn't hate him now. She isn't sure what it is that they have, but just as he knows how to make her feel small and insignificant he also knows how to make her feel like she is the air he lives on.

His mouth is on hers as he breathes, "_Katniss_."

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**AN: **I wrote gentle, formerly virgin Cato? WTF? Hey, I had to try that angle sometime and I sort of liked it. Baha. I hope you all enjoyed :)


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